“No, my dear,” she said; “I think we had better wait a little.  Probably Mr. Dinsmore will make an investigation, and perhaps he may be able to get at the truth without your assistance; and if not, as the mischief is already done, it will be time enough for your story to-morrow.”

Herbert looked a good deal relieved, and just then they were summoned to tea.

The elder Mr. Dinsmore had been out all the afternoon, and not returning until just as the bell rang for tea, heard nothing of Elsie’s injury until after he had taken his seat at the table.

The children had all reported that Arthur had pushed her down, and thus the story was told to his father.  The old gentleman was very angry, for he had a great contempt for such cowardly deeds; and said before all the guests that if it were so, Arthur should be severely punished.

Mr. Horace Dinsmore came down as the rest were about leaving the table.

“I should like to have a few moments’ conversation with you, Horace, when you have finished your tea,” his father said, lingering behind the others.

“It is just what I wish, sir,” replied his son; “I will be with you directly.  Shall I find you in the library?”

“Yes.  I hope the child was not hurt, Horace?” he added, inquiringly, stepping back again just as he had reached the door.

“Pretty badly, I am afraid,” said Mr. Dinsmore, gravely; “she is suffering a good deal.”

Mr. Dinsmore was not long at the table, for he was anxious to get back to his child; yet his father, whom he found striding back and forth across the library, in a nervous, excited way, hailed him with the impatient exclamation, “Come at last, Horace, I thought you would never have done eating.”

Then throwing himself into a chair, “Well, what is to be done about this bad business?” he asked.  “Is it true that Arthur had a hand in it?”

“I have not a doubt of it myself, sir,” replied his son.  “They all agree that he was close to her when she fell, and neither he nor she denies that he pushed her; she only begs not to be forced to speak, and he says nothing.

“And now, father, I have fully made up my mind that either that boy must be sent away to school, or I must take Elsie and make a home for her elsewhere.”

“Why, Horace! that is a sudden resolution, is it not?”

“No, father, not so much as it seems.  I have suspected, for some time past, that Elsie had a good deal to bear from Arthur and Enna—­to say nothing of an older person, to whom Enna is continually carrying tales.  Elsie is too generous to tell tales, too meek and patient to complain, and so it has been only very gradually that I have learned how much of petulance, tyranny, and injustice she has had to endure from those from whom she certainly had a right to expect common kindness, if not affection.

“Yesterday afternoon she came to me in such a state of nervous excitement as convinced me that something had gone very much amiss with her, but what it was I did not know, for she seemed unwilling to tell, and I would not force her to do so.